


less time than a boat

by helsinkibaby



Category: NCIS
Genre: Community: 1-million-words, F/M, Fluff, Het, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 16:06:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14980688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: Ellie and Nick hear a strange noise outside their front door.





	less time than a boat

**Author's Note:**

> For June bingo, "handmade gifts only"

The suspicious thumping and shuffling noises coming from down the hall make Nick pause as he finishes loading the dishwasher with the breakfast dishes. It’s a little early on a Saturday morning for anyone to be up - the only reason he’s up this early is because Ellie can’t sleep late any more and they’ve decided to make a virtue out a necessity and spend their day off painting. There’s a silence for a few seconds and he thinks whatever it is has stopped but then it starts up again, getting closer to their front door. 

“What’s that noise?” Ellie appears at his side and he’s about to give her an answer but he’s distracted by whatever he’s about to say when he looks at her. There’s not a scrap of makeup on her face, her hair is thrown up into a messy bun and she’s wearing a pair of sweatpants only fit for tossing in the trash and an old faded t-shirt that once belonged to him. It’s huge around her shoulders but it’s stretched nicely across her rounded stomach, showing off her bump nicely. Just like he always does when he takes notice of her like that, his hand goes to her stomach and he grins as the baby pushes against his hand, like she can sense that he’s there. 

His grin widens because that never gets old. 

Ellie’s lips twist in something that’s caught halfway between a grimace of pain and a fond smile. Which is apt because he knows it’s both. 

Another thump from the hallway has them both looking at the front door. “It sounds like someone’s dragging a dead body around out there,” Ellie says and Nick fights back a groan because that would just be their luck, having to investigate a murder literally on their doorstep on their day off. 

Before he can caution her about tempting fate, there’s a firm knock at their door. 

They’ve both worked with Gibbs for years; they know his knock. 

Exchanging a look, they both frown. “Case?” Nick mouths, but Ellie shakes her head which makes sense. Gibbs would call them if he needed them, or give the job to Tim. Another knock and Ellie jerks her head towards the door, wordlessly ordering Nick to answer it. 

Nick does as he’s told. She’s almost eight months pregnant, that’s what he does. 

When he opens the door, Gibbs is standing there, taciturn as ever. “Torres,” he says. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” 

Nick shakes his head. “We were just about to start painting,” he says, stepping back to let Gibbs in, stopping short of asking if he wants to help. Gibbs would either shoot him down in flames or pick up a paintbrush and start ordering him around and Nick’s not sure which one would be worse. 

Except Gibbs doesn’t step over the threshold. “I brought you something,” he says instead, gesturing to something on the other side of the door that Nick can’t see. He’s so surprised at the words that he doesn’t move for a moment, not until he hears Gibbs’s almost but not quite exasperated, “A little help?” 

Torres takes the hint and steps out into the hall, blinking at what he sees. Whatever it is that Gibbs was dragging down is big and solid, awkward rather than heavy, wrapped in several layers of bubble wrap. (Nick’s a little more gleeful than he should be about that; yeah, he’s a kid but he finds popping it oddly satisfying.) Between the two of them, they get in into the apartment, into the living room and Ellie has a scissors ready to hand him so he can start snipping - her days of kneeling and bending ended a couple of months ago. 

When bubble wrap litters the floor and the last of the popping has faded, he stands beside Ellie, stares down at what’s been revealed. Ellie’s hand is over her lips, there are tears in her eyes and sure, she’s crying at toilet roll commercials these days but damn if Nick isn’t a little choked up too. 

“Gibbs...” is all Ellie can get out and the older man shrugs one shoulder. 

“Figured it’d look nice beside that crib you picked out.” He knows what it looks like because it had accidentally flashed up on the screens in the bullpen one day and he’s right; the white wood of the rocking chair in front of them, sanded and painted by Gibbs’s own hand, will match the crib perfectly. Nick can picture it, the walls the pale lemon colour Ellie chose, the chair in the corner, Ellie sitting on it rocking their daughter to sleep. The image is enough to bring tears to his own eyes and he doesn’t give a damn. He’d never really wanted kids but the last few months, he’s been giving McGee a run for his money in the gushing dad department. 

Ellie runs a hand across the arm of the chair, shakes her head with wonder replacing tears shining in her eyes. “This must have taken you forever,” she murmurs and Gibbs just shrugs. 

“Less time than a boat,” he observes, a classic Gibbs-ism if ever Nick heard one, delivered with a deadpan expression that’s only slightly belied by the twitch of his lips. That expression changes completely when Ellie turns and wraps her arms around his waist, hugs him tightly. A flicker of surprise crosses his face but then a genuine smile appears and he returns the hug, patting her back gently. 

When Ellie straightens up and steps away, Nick puts an arm around her shoulders, squeezes once. She grins up at him, lifts up her hand to close around his fingers, squeezes back. “Thank you, Gibbs,” Nick says. Then, remembering his manners and who he’s talking to, he tacks on, “You want a coffee or something?” 

Gibbs looks at him like he’s nuts. “Only after we get two walls of the nursery finished.” Ellie opens her mouth to say something but he holds up one finger. “Nick and I are going to paint. You’re going to sit in that rocker,” he says, pointing to it in illustration, “and issue instructions. Am I clear?” 

Ellie shuts her mouth, grins and nods. 

Nick, meanwhile, looks between the two of them. “I don’t get a say in this?” 

Ellie shakes her head while Gibbs just chuckles, slaps him on the back. “Welcome to the rest of your life, Torres,” he says. 

Somehow, Nick thinks, that doesn’t sound so bad.


End file.
